


When Shadows Pass

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Drama, M/M, Other: See Story Notes, Romance, other pairing - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 01:46:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/792604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In reality, where there's light, there are shadows...<br/>This story is a sequel to When Daylight Comes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Shadows Pass

**Author's Note:**

> This story just wanted to be written. It is the sequel to "When Daylight Comes" and first, I'd like to give a special thanks to everyone that wrote to me about that one, especially those that liked the original characters. And to all those that wanted a little more of Griff...he's in here...hope you enjoy. :) 
> 
> And again thanks to those that read this along the way, offering the usual wonderful mixture of help, motivation and comments. 
> 
> Warning note: some angst and some references to n/c sex

## When Shadows Pass

by JC

Author's webpage: <http://www.skeeter63.org/jayci/>

Author's disclaimer: The characters from the TV series "The Sentinel" are not my property, and I am not making money off of them. That's it. Everybody else is mine, mine, mine.

* * *

When Shadows Pass by J.C. 

The answering machine was beeping when Jim came out of the bathroom, fresh from a morning shower, but he didn't bother going to pick up the phone. Instead, as he poured himself a cup of coffee, he waited for the caller to leave a message. No one spoke, but, in the static-accented silence, Jim could have sworn that he faintly heard the sound of a heart beating slightly too fast. He was across the room, picking up the phone before the line could be broken. 

"Hello?" 

"Jim?" 

The familiar voice held an unfamiliar hint of panic. "Gigi? What's wrong?" 

There was a slight hesitation, and then, "Nothing. Just...have you talked to Griff lately? Has he called you?" 

"No. I haven't talked to him since the beginning of the summer when I called to thank him for the book. But he's doing publicity stuff, right? I figured I'd hear from him in a few weeks when he comes out to the West Coast." 

"He's there now." 

"What? Where?" Jim tried not to overreact to Giselle's tone. "What's going on?" 

"He's at the lake house, and I have no idea what's going on, really. He left Dallas about three weeks ago, canceled the rest of his commitments, and went back to Atlanta. But he didn't go to his house, Jim, he stayed at Mama's for a week, not saying much of anything, then he got in his car and drove out there." 

"Gigi...?" 

"That's all I know. Mama said he kept to himself in his old room, and then left. She seemed sure something really bad had happened, but she's always worried a lot about us. I thought that maybe it was a falling out with his publishers, he'd been making noises about switching, but when I finally talked to him I could tell something was really bothering him. He said he just wanted to be alone for a while, and was going to drive across country up to the lake. And when I mentioned him calling you, he said he didn't want to bother you, and that I shouldn't either. He'd call you at the end of the month like he'd planned." 

"I don't like the sound of that." 

"I know. Me either. I thought Blair might have mentioned something to you, even though I made him promise not to say anything, and maybe you had gotten in touch with Griff yourself. I'm at my place in New York, and Griff left a message saying he had made it to the house, but the phones aren't on, and now he's not answering his cell." 

"I'll head up there. Don't worry, I'll get him to call you. Okay?" Jim headed up the stairs, tucking the phone between his ear and shoulder while he grabbed some clothes to wear. 

"I don't know, Jim..." 

"No, I'm going. It probably won't turn out to be anything...maybe he's just tired or burnt out, needed some rest from everything for a while. But I'll make sure, and get back to you." Half to convince himself, he added, "But, I'm sure he's fine." 

"Thanks for checking, anyway." 

"He's...he's my friend. And so are you, kiddo. It'll be okay." 

"Ouch. 'Gigi' and 'kiddo' all in the same conversation. You and I need to have a little talk, Detective Ellison." 

Jim was glad that she sounded more like herself, and chuckled softly. "Okay, but later, first let's see about Griff." 

The door opened as Jim came down the stairs, cutting the connection on the phone, and Blair entered the apartment, bringing with him the mingled scents of crisp autumn air and warm baked goods, smiling in Jim's direction. 

"No doughnuts today, man, I'm going to make these awesome omelettes. So, you get your choice of bagels or muffins." 

"No time for breakfast, I've gotta go," Jim said, putting on his shoes. 

Blair responded immediately to the strained words, stopping halfway in and halfway out of the refrigerator, slowly turning to face Jim, carton of eggs in hand. 

"What's up?" The question fully conveyed Blair's concern. 

"I need to go check on somebody." 

"Well, I'll come with you. Just let me make us some sandwiches for the road." 

"Not this time, Chief. I'll see you later," Jim said, already heading for the door, pulling down his jacket from the rack. 

"Jim, what is _up_ with you?" 

"Me? What's up with _you_?" Jim couldn't keep the caustic mix of worry and anger from coloring his reaction. "Why didn't you tell me that something was going on with Griff?" 

Blair froze, caught up short, and felt a brief flash of guilt, but he met Jim's eye when he answered, "I promised Giselle that I wouldn't." 

"You should have said something. I didn't think that you kept things from me." 

"Jim..." 

Jim felt his temper rise... he hated that tone. That ultra-reasonable, super-patient tone. He preferred nagging or bitching any day. 

"She asked me not to," Blair continued, "and she's my friend--" 

"Well, what am _I_? I mean, we're--" He stopped mid-thought, swallowing down the word 'married' that had automatically come to mind, cringing as his outburst echoed bitterly in his ear, harshly reminiscent of Carolyn and old, familiar arguments held in that exact room, probably exactly where he stood, and almost always ending with him walking out. "Fuck," he finally said under his breath. 

"Jim, look, I'm sorry, but just tell me what's going on. What happened to--" 

Making an abrupt about-face, Jim left, closing the door soundly behind him. 

"--Griffin?" Blair finished to the empty room. The name came out as just a whisper, softened by the ache in his chest as his heart pounded in hurt, confused anger. 

* * *

By the time that Jim got to the turnoff for the lake, he had calmed himself enough to feel incredibly ashamed. By the time he passed Stephen's house, he knew what he needed to do. By the time he pulled in behind Griff's car, absentmindedly noting its road ravaged appearance, which was a far cry from its usual spotless shine, he had pulled out his cell phone and was dialing, and felt a rush of gratitude when Blair answered. 

"Yeah." 

"Hey, it's me." 

"Yeah?" Blair sounded wary and unsure, and it burned holes in Jim's gut. 

"I'm sorry, Chief." 

There was a heavy sigh. "No, hey, _I'm_ sorry. I should have told you, but Giselle wasn't really sure exactly what was going on, and she said that Griffin didn't want you to know, and I promised...well, you know... Is he all right?" 

"I don't know, but I'm going to find out. Giselle was upset, and I got worried, and...sorry." 

"It's fine. So..." 

Blair paused and Jim wondered what was on his mind. "So, I'll call you later. Okay?" 

"Okay." 

When Blair hung up the phone, his relief at having talked to Jim didn't stand up to the weight of all the questions storming through his head. 

* * *

Jim considered simply breaking in when, after a few minutes of persistent knocking, no one had come to the door. He had done a quick check and there was only one heartbeat inside, so it seemed that he hadn't interrupted anything...personal. And that heartbeat was strong and steady, so he hadn't interrupted anything tragic, either. Finally, he heard sounds of mumbling curses and soft shuffling headed towards him, and the door opened a bit, a bleary-eyed face peering through. 

Pressing on the door, Jim pushed his way gently inside. Not that he met any resistance. Griff just turned his back and walked over to flop down on the couch, which was covered with scattered wads of balled-up paper. Jim took in the disheveled appearance of the house and its occupant. The smooth, brown complexion was pale and ashen, and the light brown eyes, usually vibrant, seemed dull. 

"You look like shit." 

"Fuck you, Ellison." 

"You don't exactly look like you'd be up to it." 

Griff glared at him, opened his mouth to say something, but then just closed his eyes with a sigh. 

Jim moved closer, his face lined with worry. "Wanna talk about it?" 

"No. I want to be alone.... I thought a sharp detective such as yourself would have picked up on that pretty quickly." 

Ignoring the sarcasm, especially since the comment wasn't delivered with any bite, just a quiet weariness, Jim said, "Your sister--" 

"My _sister_ used to be much better at keeping shit to herself." 

"Someone tried to kill you once, asshole. Did you stop to think how people would worry if you just dropped out of sight, especially in light of how you've been acting the past few weeks? Is someone threatening you again?" 

Leaning forward, scrubbing at his face tiredly, Griff answered, "No, nothing like that. Shit, I didn't think about that. I'll...I'll call home...check in." 

"Where's your phone?" 

Griff shrugged, "Somewhere around here. It needs to be charged." 

Jim pulled his own phone out, extending it to his friend. "Here. Call now. Gigi and your mom." 

When Griff took the phone, Jim walked into the kitchen. Despite the mess around the house, he hadn't noticed much to indicate that Griff had been eating. In the refrigerator, there was a styrofoam take-out container, and, from the looks of the food it held, it had been there a while. Jim grabbed a bottle of water, and opened the cabinets noting that there was a decent supply of canned goods. He got down some soup, pulled out a pot, and started heating it up. 

Going back to the living room, he found Griff lying down on the couch, and he nudged him with the bottle of water. "Drink this." 

Griff didn't protest, but just sat up and opened the bottle to gulp some of the cold liquid down. 

"Are you sure you're not in danger?" Jim asked, eyeing Griff closely. 

"I'm sure, man. I'm fine." 

Jim didn't bother to debate that point, but he was momentarily satisfied about any imminent danger, so he went back to the kitchen, taking the soup off of the stove, pouring it into two mugs. With mugs and spoons in hand, he went back to Griff. 

"When was the last time you ate?" he asked, handing off one of the hot cups. 

In answer, he only got a shrug, but Griff took the soup, stirring it distractedly. 

"I wish you'd tell me what's going on." 

"I wish you'd let it go." 

Jim watched Griff take a few sips of soup, then said, "Okay," getting up and going over to the glass doors overlooking the deck. He slid them open, breathing in the fresh air. 

"Hey. It's not summertime out there, you know." 

"Well, this place needs to air out. It smells like...dirty clothes," Jim responded, not able to say that the house really held an odor that registered to his brain as 'sorrow'. But he stepped outside, closing the doors behind him and sipped on his own soup, not bothering with the spoon. 

He tried to clear his mind, because he didn't know what to do, what questions to ask, or whether to really just leave Griff be with his thoughts and problems. As he got to the bottom of his mug, the doors opened behind him. 

"I really came up here to see you. I mean, I drove all the way out here to be alone in this place, but I think, subconsciously, that I was coming to you. It's just that the last time that I was in big trouble, you saved me. Somehow, I think I came looking for that." 

"Christ, Griffin, what is going on?" 

"Nothing. I mean...it's stupid, and I've got a handle on it now." 

"Did you do something? You can tell me. No judgment calls, just a friendly ear." 

Griff gave a soft snort. "You're a cop. You make judgment calls for a living." 

Jim stiffened, but didn't dispute it. He knew that he could handle suspects and victims, but sometimes still had problems with more personal interactions. That he didn't always remember to check the 'cop' at the door. Instead he shrugged, turning away and saying, "Just a suggestion," trying to keep his voice even. 

He felt more than heard Griff come up behind him. The very air between them seemed to charge, and he wasn't surprised when Griff's arms circled around him tightly. 

"That's okay, Jim. I love that cop." 

"Griff...don't," Jim said, grasping his friend by the wrists, turning around and breaking the embrace. 

"I never got over you, you know." 

"Stop it. I am with Blair, and I don't fuck around." Still, there was something in Griff's eyes that kept Jim from really getting angry. 

"Not even one time...not even to make me feel better...?" 

The whispered statement tore at Jim and his own soft "No" echoed his distress. 

He stepped back, still holding on to one of Griff's arms, and went back inside, his friend in tow. After getting Griff to sit on the couch, he picked up the pair of sneakers sticking out from underneath it, and thrust them into Griff's hands. 

"Put these on." 

"For what?" 

Jim snatched up Griff's laptop that was sitting on a nearby low table and packed it into its case, putting it by the large leather duffel bag that was sitting by the door. 

"You're coming home with me." 

Griff froze in the act of stuffing his right foot into a still-tied shoe. "No way. You don't want to fuck? Fine. You did your good deed--made me call my mother--and you can go now. But I don't need a baby-sitter." 

"Maybe not. But, dammit, you need _something_ , and I can't give you what you're asking for. I can't make you talk to me about it, either, but if you're going to sit around doing nothing, at least you can do it at my place where I can see that you get fed." He crossed over, squatting down in front of where Griff sat. "You're not yourself, man. Just a few days, Griff, then you can come back up here to your 'fortress of solitude'." 

Groaning, covering his face with his hands, Griff cursed softly, "Fuck fuck fuck," and started shaking. Jim thought the man was sobbing, and he had to resist the urge to pull the hands away so that he could see for sure. Finally, he sat down next to his friend, one arm going around him in a gesture of comfort and support. But Griff jerked away, going to the far end of the couch, leaning back against the arm of it, thankfully dry-eyed, Jim noted, but not meeting Jim's gaze. 

"I want you to promise that you won't go all cop on me. Not with this, okay?" 

Jim gave a tight nod. 

"God, I need a drink." 

"You don't drink." 

"Not a lot, no. Not usually, anyway. But that's another story." 

"Griff..." Uneasiness had already given way to dread, and Jim wasn't looking forward to what might come next. 

"It's stupid, really. It's just some fucking guy." Much softer, Griff said again, "Just some _fucking_ _guy_." 

"You met somebody?" 

"No, saw somebody that I used to go out with. He plays ball...pro basketball. He's tight with one of my friends from back home...they went to the same high school. We met last year and hit it off okay, and we were seeing each other for a while. It just wasn't quite there for me, though. Plus, it had been a long time since I'd been with someone still in the closet, and even with my admitted weakness for tall, fine men, I didn't want to stay in that." 

"So you saw your ex and you had a fight?" 

There was a sound of ugly laughter, and then Griff spoke. "No, actually we slept together." 

"Slept together," Jim repeated neutrally. 

"Yeah. It was in Dallas, and I usually talk to him when I'm in the area, and sometimes we hang out with friends, but no sex or anything. This time he said he didn't feel like going out, and asked me to come over to watch some classic hoops on tape. You know, Dr. J, shit like that. Sounded cool to me. So, I went out to his house, we sat around watching ball games, talking trash...he was drinking, so I had one too, but just _one_. I remember him moving closer to me, trying to put his hand in my pants, and I told him that kind of shit was over between us, that I was going to go. The next thing I knew it was morning, I had the world's worst headache, my stomach felt like something nasty had moved in, and I was...you know...sore." 

Jim immediately caught the meaning, and he sat forward, leaning in Griff's direction. "Shit, Griff!" 

"I was _so_ pissed. He had gone off...to practice, I guess, and left me there alone. And, after I threw up and cleaned myself up, I trashed his place. Then, I got the hell out of there. But I'm cool now. It's not a big deal, hell, we'd screwed lots of times, it was just one more." 

"Griff, you know better..." 

"At least the motherfucker used a rubber." 

" _Griffin_ , you can't let it go like that. You have to do something." 

"No. You're thinking like a cop. I'm not going to press charges against one of the Dallas fucking Mavericks and say I was, what, raped? Oh yeah, I'm sure that shit would turn out well." 

"Who is it?" 

The steely edge made Griff meet Jim's eye. "Turn it off, Jim. I'm fine. It wasn't even...rough. Stay out of it. You promised. And I'm _handling_ it...I just have to get used to it...you know...in my head." 

Jim started to say something more, but Griff interrupted him. 

"Ever wonder how many gay bars there are in America?" 

"What?" Jim asked, his mind, already fraught with anger and worry, wasn't following Griff's train of thought. 

"Bars. Places where men meet men. There are a lot of them between here and Atlanta." 

"Griff, you don't _do_ bars." 

"Yeah, I know, but I needed it. I'm not trying to kid myself, I know exactly why I hit those places, picking up these big dudes, getting drunk and making sure I fucked their brains out. I needed it...to help get my head around things." 

"So, was that what..." Jim gestured towards the deck, indicating what had happened earlier. 

"Nah, man, that was about _you_. I guess I felt like I needed _you_. Sorry about that. I'd never try to mess with what you have." 

"Fuck, Griff. Just tell me the asshole's name." 

"Jim...there's nothing you can do." 

"But there could be something _you_ could do. You're talking drugs and non-consensual acts. Think about this...what if it's a young boy or girl next time..." 

"He wouldn't..." 

"Right. Did you think he'd do it to you?" Jim asked pointedly. But he stopped Griff from answering. "Put your other shoe on. And get your coat." 

"Jim..." 

"I told you--you're coming home with me." 

Rolling his eyes, Griff said, "Has anyone ever told you that you have control issues, Ellison?" 

"Yeah, Carolyn." 

"Well, chalk one up for the ex-wife." 

"Fuck you, man." 

"I offered, you turned me down." 

Jim let that slide while he collected the dirty dishes, resolutely ignoring the rest of the mess. "You have two minutes to get your ass into my truck." 

Griff walked out of the bedroom, wearing a leather jacket and looking around the room. "Forget that. I'll follow you in my own car," he said, jingling the keys in his hand once he found them. 

At the door, Jim picked up the duffel, and Griff took the computer case. 

"Am I going to have to have state troopers put out an APB on you?" 

"I swear, Jim, I'm not going to cut and run. I'll be right behind you. I'd like to stay with you, only for the rest of the weekend, though. Is Blair going to be okay with it?" 

Taken aback, Jim answered, "Sure, why wouldn't he be? He likes you." 

Griff nodded as they left, locking up the house. 

Before he got into his truck, Jim called out. "Griff." And when Griff turned to face him, he continued, "I know you're going to be okay, but think about what I said." 

Griff nodded again, but got into his car without saying a word. 

* * *

"What the hell are you doing here, Sandburg?" Simon asked, as he walked into the more or less empty bullpen. 

"Good morning to you, too, Captain. And I'm doing paperwork." Blair didn't look up from the computer screen. 

"I can see that. Where's Jim and why are you here on his day off doing his paperwork?" 

"Jim had something to do and I...needed something to do." 

"And you couldn't find anything better than police reports?" Simon asked incredulously. 

"No," Blair answered, still not looking up, but no longer registering any of the words on the monitor. He hadn't wanted to stay at the loft after Jim had left, and instead of going to the University to get some of his own work done, he had found himself at Jim's desk, and he didn't want to look too closely at why that was. 

"All right, spill it, Sandburg." 

That finally caused Blair to turn in Simon's direction, to find dark eyes focused on him from behind the reflected glare of lenses, and he sighed. Turning back, he shut down the computer, got up, putting file folders back in their neat stacks, and picked his backpack up from the floor by his chair. 

"Trust me, Simon. You don't want to know. It's...personal. Between me and Jim." 

"Personal? Like sexual?" 

"Shit, you _would_ say that. I am so outta here." Blair shouldered his bag, and started to make his way past, only to be stopped by a hand grabbing his arm. 

Looking around at the few detectives scattered about, seeing to their own paperwork or talking on the phones, Simon said, "My office, Sandburg." 

Blair jerked free. "This is my own time, you can't give me orders." 

Holding open his hands, Simon replied, "All right, I'm asking...as a friend." 

After staring at the police captain for a few seconds, Blair sighed and stomped off into Simon's office, dropping into a chair, as Simon followed, closing the door. 

Simon sat behind his desk, watching Blair not look at him. "So, what's going on, Blair?" 

Leaning forward, blue gaze flashing hotly in Simon's direction, Blair said, "Look, you and I are okay and everything, but we both know that you're not exactly in favor of my relationship with Jim, so let's not even go there, all right?" 

If Simon had been smoking, the cigar would have fallen right out of his open mouth, and hit the desk, smoldering dangerously on a stack of old phone messages. Eyes wide, he finally spoke. 

"What the hell are you talking about? I don't have a problem with you and Jim. I was surprised, sure, but I got that a lot easier than I got the whole Sentinel thing." 

Blair's face showed his own surprise. " _Simon? Please!_ It was _months_ before you even could look at us after we came home and told you. I felt like shit because I was the one who convinced Jim we should tell you in the first place. After your reaction, he said to just do our jobs and either you'd come around or you wouldn't. And it looks like you came around, but don't try to play 'love doctor' here, okay?" 

Simon slowly took a cigar from out of his pocket and fingered it gently. "You've got it all wrong, Sandburg," he said quietly. "Jim and I had been friends for a long time, and he never told me about his...orientation. I mean, I was there for his marriage and divorce and I always thought he knew he could confide in me. _That's_ what was bothering me. Hell, if I had known, I probably would have guessed about the two of you long before you walked in here making announcements." 

"Hey, Simon, you know what Jim is like. He doesn't really _do_ confessionals." 

A familiar harrumphing sound met that remark. "And when did he tell _you_?" 

All Blair could do was blush. 

"Like I thought," Simon said, shrugging. "He's always let you in, Sandburg." 

Blair laughed, and when he could actually see a flush coloring Simon's dark skin, he said, "I'm not laughing at you, Simon, I'm laughing at me. Well, you and me." 

"What's so funny?" 

"Griffin Paris." 

"Griffin Paris is funny?" 

"No, but you know that he and Jim are friends, right?" 

"Yeah, I gather that they kept in touch after the case, and I know they ran into each other at the lake last year when you and Jim...you know..." 

"But you didn't know that Griffin and Jim were together for a while?" 

"Christ!" 

"Calm down, at least it was _after_ the case was closed," Blair said laughing. "But I've been dancing around some issues that I have about Jim and Griff and their friendship, and thanks to you, I know what to do." 

"Glad to help," Simon said wryly. "What are you going to do?" 

Getting up, gathering his bag, Blair looked down at where Simon was sitting. "I'm going to go talk to my...uh...'partner'," Blair said with a grin. "And I think, sometime in the near future, you need to do the same, get things out in the open." 

Blair uttered a cheerful 'thanks' and Simon watched him go. A few minutes later, Simon was startled to find that he had actually lit the cigar in his hand, but he puffed on it anyway as he leaned back in his chair, thinking. 

* * *

Dinner was just about ready when Jim walked through the apartment door. The air was redolent with the steamy, spicy scent of one of Blair's one-pot wonders, where he tossed in whatever was handy, and after seasoning and simmering, a mouth-watering meal was created. 

"Hey, Jim," Blair said, putting the spoon down, licking sauce from his lips, "I'm glad you're home." 

"Smells good." 

"Man, it's always food with you," Blair shot back with a smile, accepting the kiss that Jim gave him. "You okay? Everything okay? Griffin?" 

"It's...it's a bad deal, Chief." 

"So, what is it? What's going on?" 

"We can't talk about it." At the expression on Blair's face, Jim added, "Look, I know how that sounds, after this morning and everything, but it's too much to go into right now. Griff'll be here in a few minutes." 

"What? Where is he?" 

"He went to park his car in that garage over on Maple. I think he thought I needed to prepare you...he's going to stay with us for a couple of days." 

"Oh, he is?" 

"Yeah, I didn't want to leave him up there alone. He's got some heavy stuff on his mind, and I...just didn't want to leave him there alone. I thought he could stay in the spare room, okay? 

"Sure, Jim, okay," Blair said, going back to the kitchen, lifting the lid and checking on the food one more time. 

"Thanks, Chief. And we'll talk later, right?" 

"Right." 

"He's on his way up... you sure you're okay with it?" 

"Yeah, no problem." 

When there was a knock on the door seconds later, Jim answered it, and Blair pulled a salad out of the refrigerator as Jim ushered Griff in. 

"I'll put your stuff in the other room. Have a seat." Jim took Griff's bags and walked over to the French doors. 

"Hey, Griffin, how you doing?" Blair asked, coming into the living room. 

"Blair. Good to see you, man." 

"You, too." Blair fought the urge to ask questions, but it was obvious that Griffin wasn't at his best. When Jim rejoined them, he said, "There's food ready in the kitchen, whenever you guys want it. I'm going to go to the university and work on...some stuff." 

"Now? You're not going to eat?" Jim asked, surprised. 

"Maybe later. I spent the day at the station finishing up the reports for that money laundering case, and didn't get around to picking up some papers that I need to look over for Monday. I'll be back in a bit." 

Jim caught up to Blair at the door. "Chief?" 

"Just some work, Jim." 

Even though he didn't believe that was quite it, Jim let it go. "Okay. Phone in your bag?" 

Blair nodded, turning to open the door, but he heard Jim's soft words. 

"Love you, Chief." 

"You too, man," he whispered back. 

After locking the door, Jim turned back to the room, ignoring the questioning look on Griff's face, and went to the kitchen to serve up the dinner that Blair had left behind. 

* * *

Blair slipped naked under the covers, trying not to disturb Jim, but automatically moving as close as possible, watching Jim's face in the shadowed moonlight. He was drifting off when he felt a light caressing on his thigh and heard a whisper near his ear. 

"Hey." 

"I thought you were asleep." 

"Sort of...waiting on you." 

"Oh. Sorry I'm kinda late. Got caught up...you know." 

For the next couple of minutes there was silence, and Blair had started another slide towards sleep when Jim's quiet words roused him once more. 

"We're not okay, are we?" 

"Yeah, Jim, sure we are." 

"No. We're not. I know that I overreacted this morning, but what you're thinking about me and Griff...it's not true." 

"I'm not thinking anything about you two, really." 

"Then what? It's obviously some problem with Griff. I thought you liked him." 

"I do. I mean, I've grown to like him. But okay, it's easier to like him when he's somewhere else. I keep remembering meeting him, knowing how you felt about him. How hard it was to watch the two of you together. I know you are friends, but you have _history_." 

"Chief, Griff was the first guy that I ever really slept with. My only other real involvement with a guy before you. I like him, and I'm glad that we're still friends. Yeah, he and I have 'history', we share a past...but, you and me, we're doing pretty good in the present, right? And we have a _future_." 

Blair tapped Jim in the chest with the back of his hand. "Aw, man. That was nice." 

"Am I right? Do we have a future? We never...we just sort of did this and I realized this morning that I have no idea how you think of the whole thing. But I don't consider us...'going out', you know what I mean?" 

"Back in the beginning, you said something about spending the rest of our lives trying not to drive each other crazy, and I didn't back off, so I think that means I'm in this for good. We're way past dating here, Jim." 

"Okay, that's what I was thinking, too." 

"Did you want to do something, like a ceremony or some sort of symbolic event?" 

"I don't know. I think I mostly just wanted to know that we were on the same page. Trying to keep on the right track." Jim pushed back unpleasant memories of his relationship with Carolyn, pulling Blair closer to him. 

"We're cool, Jim." 

"And you? You cool now, too?" 

"Yep. Though I still have this urge to roll you over and fuck you while he's down there, stake my claim, so to speak, but I don't like what that says about me, so I'm resisting." 

Jim rolled over on top of Blair, placing kisses along his neck. "Getting territorial, Chief? I thought that was my department." 

"It is... _I_ can overcome such base drives," Blair panted, nerve endings waking up under the attention of Jim's teeth and tongue. 

"Well, since I'm still struggling with that sort of thing, why don't I just show you where _I_ want to be?" 

Jim shifted, fisting Blair's cock, pumping it until Blair's hips jerked with each stroke. Jim's touch roamed and Blair swayed and rolled, following the tormenting fingers as they moved from the leaking head of his cock to the smooth, sensitive skin below his balls, occasionally going lower still and teasing the tight pucker there. Intermittent gasps and hisses escaped, no matter how Blair tried to be quiet, and that only caused Jim to linger, so that he could hear them again and again. 

But the sudden coolness of lube pouring down over Jim's hand was a sign that Blair was ready for him to move on. He pushed two slick fingers inside; reaching for the spot that would make Blair break out in a cold sweat. Blair's dick dribbled more sticky stuff, straining upwards, hard and raging, shiny from the spilled lube. With one skillful move, Jim positioned himself between his lover's legs, thrusting forward to slide quickly home, looking down on the form beneath him, taking in every detail, even in the darkness. 

Blair's eyes were closed, and his hands were tangled in the sheets as he rocked to Jim's rhythm and Jim danced to his whispered tune. He was repeating "come on, Jim...come on, Jim" in a Sentinel-soft voice...calling out...and Jim could only helplessly answer, shooting in pulsing bursts deep inside the heated passage. Jim grabbed the slick erection that was throbbing against Blair's belly, working it expertly, and, in no time, Blair spilled willingly into his hand. 

After a minute's rest, marked by panting breaths and slowing heartbeats, Jim pulled out, lowering Blair's legs back to the bed. He reached for the towels that he had learned to keep handy so that Blair wouldn't be tempted to use the sheets or the stripped off tee-shirts and boxers that might be within reach, and performed a quick clean up. 

"Get the point?" he asked when he had finished, gathering Blair into his arms, settling them comfortably for sleep. 

Blair choked back a laugh. "Yeah, got it. You, Sentinel-man, performing the Ritual of Bonding with your Chosen One." 

"Just as long as you know." 

"I think you effectively drove your point home." 

"And next time, you can be the explorer planting your flagpole to mark your discovery...or the Chief who is--" 

"Jim?" Blair said, interrupting Jim's train of thought. 

"Hmm?" 

"Go to sleep." 

"Okay, but I was just trying to help." 

"Jim..." 

"Goodnight, Chief." 

"'Night." 

Mentally drained and physically exhausted after the events of the previous twenty-four hours, they both welcomed the prospect of sleep. 

"Jim..." Blair murmured drowsily against Jim's chest. 

"Hmm?" 

"You might want to talk to Simon." 

"What for?" 

"Just do it." 

Jim answered 'okay' but it never made it past his lips, because he was already dropping off. Blair snuffled and snorted, tucking his feet under Jim's legs, and quickly did the same. 

* * *

The fact that it was Griff standing by the balcony glass didn't quite register to Blair as he rushed to the kitchen, cursing Monday mornings. The day had barely started and already he was behind. Jim had kept Griff from hiding out in the other room after dinner the night before, and they had all stayed up late talking. Rubbing his eyes, Blair thought how it used to be so much easier to function on little or no sleep. 

Despite knowing that Jim had already left, he still did a quick double take at the tall figure wearing jeans and sweatshirt, who stood looking out over the water. He poured himself a cup of coffee and went in search of his shoes that he remembered last seeing on the floor near the TV. 

"Want some coffee?" he asked in Griff's direction. 

"No thanks, got some," Griff answered, holding out a mug that Blair hadn't noticed from where he stood. 

"Okay. You'll have to scrounge up your own breakfast, if you're hungry." 

"Nah, I don't do breakfast much." After a pause, he said, "You know, this is my first time ever being here in this apartment." 

"What? Really?" 

"Yep. When Jim and I were together, we never came here. But you moved in right after you met him, right?" 

"I guess you could say that." 

"Hell of a view." He turned to where Blair was sitting on the couch, eyeing him with one shoe in his hand. "I want you to know that I didn't show up here to cause any trouble between you and Jim. Not that I'd stand a chance, anyway." He faced back towards the scenic display outside. "And I appreciate you letting me stay here. I...I needed it. I've come to realize that part of my thing with Jim had always been about being...protected. I learned to live with threats, both real and implied, a long time ago, but that psycho that Jim caught...he scared the fuck out of me, even though I tried not to show it. I think that's why I probably called Jim that first time...trying to hold on to that feeling of protection. I mean, I liked him, but I hadn't really been looking for anything more than a way to maintain...contact. I ended up caring about him, and, let's face it, he's terrific in bed, but there was always that underlying sense of being safe. So, you know, that's all this is about now." 

Blair didn't say anything; he didn't have any words. But he understood exactly what Griff was talking about. Hell, he'd been there, _lots_ of times. He knew enough to know that his own feelings for Jim probably had some of their roots in the whole Blessed Protector bit. 

Griff turned around, folding his arms over his chest, deliberately meeting Blair's gaze. "Did he tell you what happened to me?" 

"No, except to say that it was kind of heavy-duty." 

"Yeah, well, it's really just a matter of me dealing with it." Suddenly, Griff turned away again. "This guy that I used to go out with drugged me and then had sex with me while I was passed out." 

The shoe dropped with a thump from Blair's hand. "What?! So, did they arrest him or are they trying to say that it wasn't rape?" 

With a harsh laugh, Griff said, "You've been hanging around too many police stations. You switch into 'cop' mode almost as fast as Jim. And it's none of the above, I didn't tell anybody. Just Jim, when he found me...and now you." 

Blair got up, making his way across the room, but not getting too close. "Are you crazy? You can't let some shit like that slide." 

"It's not like I was thinking too clearly at the time. And this dude is well known. Famous and in the closet. I don't like the idea of being the one to point public attention to his sexuality." 

"Hey, man, this isn't about whether or not he's gay. It's about violating somebody...it's about breaking the law." 

"Kinda late, now. There's no way to prove it. But Jim got me thinking about the next person who might cross his path." 

"So, what are you going to do, then?" 

"I don't know yet, but you're both right; I can't just drop it. If anybody had come to me with that story, I wouldn't have told them to just let it go." 

"I'm sorry, man, that you went through that," Blair said, and when he didn't get a response, he reached out, touching Griff lightly on the arm. "I'm also sorry if I made you feel unwelcome here. I do consider you a friend, and you can stay as long as you like." 

"Thanks, but I'll probably head on out later today. I've been trying to write, but it's not going well. At least, at the house, I can have the satisfaction of balling up my printed out pages and tossing them all over the place." 

With a grin, Blair said, "Hey, go for it. You can't do anything to that room that I haven't already done." 

"No, really, I'll just go back up and try to concentrate. Work on some of what I've got...I don't know...see what happens." 

"Don't feel like you _have_ to go. But I've gotta run now. Mondays are the worst and I'm already late. Eat something, there's plenty of food." After shoving his feet into his shoes, and collecting what he needed to take with him, he headed for the door. "See ya." 

"Sure, see you, Blair." Griff listened to the door closing, but didn't turn around. 

* * *

"Hey, Sandburg!" 

Blair groaned; he didn't have time to chat. His one free hour of the day had already dwindled down to its last twenty minutes and he just _had_ to get something to eat. Rushing out of the house that morning, after spending time talking with Griffin, he had forgotten to stuff some snacks into his bag. He turned, but didn't stop, walking backwards so that he could brush off whoever had called his name. 

"Oh, man! Nicky!" Blair switched directions, moving towards the man with the smiling, dark brown eyes. 

"In the flesh, my friend." Nicolas Alvarez pushed dark, silky strands of wind-blown hair out of his eyes and waited for Blair to get to him. 

"I didn't even know you were back," Blair said, as they came together in a friendly embrace. 

"I've been on campus since the beginning of the term, just don't spend too much time here anymore," Nick said, indicating the Anthropology building behind them. 

"You're still missed though, man. Dr. Turner, especially, still raves about the work that you did." 

"Excellent. That's who I'm going to see now." 

"The department never got over you defecting to those literary types across campus," Blair said, laughing. 

"Hey, I was a dual major, I always left that option open. Anthropology's cool, but after finishing my dissertation, there wasn't anything I felt like doing with it. Still got this bug to write." 

"So, what's up with Turner?" 

"Hopefully, a job. I lost my teaching assistantship with the English department when I had to leave, and even though I've reapplied, if I get another one, it won't come through anytime soon. Turner can't help me with any official Anthro spots, but I was hoping he might want some personal research help." 

"Oh, hey, I'm sorry. I should have asked right off. How's your mom doing?" 

"She's good. They're saying it's remission, but my cousins are still staying with her. It was rough there for a while. I'm glad I went back, I felt better being there." 

"That's great news. And it's good to have you back here, too." 

"It's been a whole year. So, now I have to finish a few seminars, and do my critical essay. And of course, some massive rewriting on my manuscript." 

With a dramatic sigh, Blair said, "Don't even talk about it. I'm _finally_ coming down the home stretch on my diss." 

"All of that police work taking its toll." 

"Yeah, you could say that." 

"Speaking of which, I heard about you and that Detective Ellison. Still with him?" 

"Tales of my love life can't possibly be reaching all the way to Texas." 

"Blair, tales of your love life have been big news ever since you dated that cheerleader, Shari Anderson, in senior year." 

"Yeah, great. Lucky me." 

"Hey, I was happy for you, man." 

"About the cheerleader or about Jim Ellison?" Blair teased. 

"Both," Nick teased back. 

"And you weren't surprised about me being with a male cop rather than a female one?" 

"Nope. I've seen that Sandburg antenna show interest a few times over the years. Remember Todd Smith and Steve Ross? And that was nothing compared to the times that I've seen you with Detective Ellison. I was a little surprised that you actually went for it, though." 

"Okay, let's get off of me, now," Blair said, not wanting to get into explanations. "How about you?" 

"Nothing going on with me, been too busy with my mother and just trying to keep writing. I guess I'm just a lone wolf, man." Nick shrugged, giving Blair a crooked grin. "Look, I better go. I need to catch Turner before his afternoon lecture. I want to hook up with you sometime, though. Catch up more. Tonight I'm meeting some members of the Gay and Lesbian Alumni Association for dinner. I'm hoping there might be some off-campus opportunities available or something. But I'll call you." 

"Yeah, see you, Nick," Blair said watching the other man turn and rush up the steps of the Anthropology building. His stomach growled and he cursed to himself. 'I guess I can forget lunch.' With a sigh, he followed in the direction that Nick had gone, hoping he had a few seconds to at least snag something from a vending machine in the lounge. In the meantime, he also had the beginnings of an idea. 

* * *

It was getting late when Blair got home, and he was starving. He could hear voices as he unlocked the door, so he assumed that Griff had decided to stay after all. And when he got inside, he saw he had been right. Jim and Griff were seated on the couch watching some obscure sporting event. 

"Hey guys, what's up?" 

Both men said their hellos, and Jim got up to meet him, walking beside him as he hung up his jacket and headed up the stairs. 

"You're just in time for dinner. You pick the menu, I'll make the call." 

"Reneging on your turn again?" Blair asked, reaching for some sweats. 

"Actually, I just got home a little while ago. We might have a break on the Patterson case. I'll fill you in later. Your schedule's light tomorrow, right?" 

"Yeah, no problem. How about pizza? I'm in the mood to pig out tonight." 

"Sounds like somebody skipped lunch." 

"I didn't exactly _skip_ it, but I didn't exactly get any, either. Which reminds me, I have something to run by Griff." 

"Wait until you hear _his_ news." 

"Is it about...you know...?" 

"No. He told me he told you about it, though. I ran a hypothetical by Simon today, and, if Griff just comes off of the name, I think I have a way we can at least shake this guy up." 

"So, what's the news?" 

"Take your shower, we'll talk when the pizza gets here. Oh, and Simon and I cleared up a few old issues, too." 

As they headed down the stairs, Blair said, "You've got good friends, Jim." 

Jim smiled as he answered; pulling on a lock of hair that had escaped from Blair's ponytail. "Yeah, and I've got something better, too. Thanks." 

Blair grinned back. "Just order the pizza...you know what I like." 

"That'll have to wait for later, Chief. Pizza first." 

Blair started to give Jim a one-fingered salute, but decided not to provide him with a chance at another snappy comeback. Ignoring him, he made his escape into the bathroom. 

He came out to the aroma of hot pizza, and the sight of Jim and Griff already stuffing their faces. 

"Don't worry, Chief, nobody's touching the pizza _you_ like with all that _crap_ on it," Jim mumbled with his mouth full. 

Blair stifled another urge to give Jim the finger, and piled his plate with his spinach and leek slices. "Griff, Jim tells me you've got news," he said, after taking a satisfying bite. 

"I probably shouldn't say anything, Gigi might want to do the honors." 

"Oh, shit! It's the art commission from the University isn't it? The 'Diversity' murals?" 

"She got the call today," Griff answered. "She's real excited about it." 

"That is so cool! I'm glad that she got it. I know she wanted to do more with her 'GG' alter ego." 

"She'll start on it sometime in January. She also came up with the idea of having some local artists, along with students from the university's art department, do some related projects for a museum exhibit that will open once the murals are done." 

"I saw the preliminary sketches. They were damned good." 

"That's my sister." 

"So, what about you? Going back up to the house and get down to writing?" 

"Going back up, don't know about the writing, but I did take some notes down today." 

"Well, I had an idea..." 

"Run while you can, Griff," Jim interjected, "I tell you on good authority that when Sandburg starts a sentence like that it's gonna cost you." He got up, gathering the dirty dishes and empty pizza boxes, laughing at Blair's glaring expression and the string of muttered curses that followed. 

"What's up, Blair?" Griff asked, his face showing his amusement. 

"It's sort of a favor, but it could help you out, too," and giving Jim a warning look, he added, "and it really won't cost you that much." 

And, despite laughter from both Griffin and Jim, Blair told them what was on his mind. 

* * *

Griff had had every intention of just politely declining. It would just be a brief interview as a favor for Blair, then a simple 'no thanks' to the job-seeking grad student, explaining that he wished he could help him out, but that he really didn't _need_ an assistant, didn't work that way. Short and sweet, and then he'd be back up at the lake in time enough for a late lunch (if he remembered to stop for groceries), and maybe get in a good bit of writing during the rest of the night. 

Even as he ushered Nick Alvarez into Jim and Blair's apartment, taking the coat from his hand, hanging it on the hooks by the door, motioning for him to sit on the sofa, he was formulating the phrases in his head that would fulfill his obligation, and get him on his way. 

He wasn't even aware of changing his mind. Maybe it had started when Nick had said, "Nice to meet you, Mr. Paris", and he had said, "Please, call me Griffin", as they shook hands. Maybe it had been due to a pair of dark eyes that seemed so incredibly alive, or the bright smile that flashed often and readily, or the way that slender fingers repeatedly passed through thick, black hair, pushing it back from an attractively youthful face. Or maybe it had all been decided when he had said, "So, tell me about yourself," and, in a softly accented voice, Nick had told him about growing up in Southeast Houston, about his love for sociocultural Anthropology, and his passion for writing. How being young, and Hispanic, and gay was something that he thought was worthy of expression. 

Later, Griff would deny that it was any of those things. That Nick's competent and articulate manner was the key point. That it was a favor for a friend and a way to help a struggling student, in addition to being a help to himself with his writing, having someone to do the things he hated like typing in pages and pages of his longhand. 

But, right then, he was surprised to hear himself say, "The job is yours if you want it," explaining what would be required, and how it would involve travel since he was working in a house that was a few hours away, but that he could compensate for the mileage. Doubly surprised to hear himself add that Nick would be welcome to use one of the extra bedrooms at the house, if he wanted to spend the night to save himself some trips when his schedule meant working on consecutive days. After all, the hours would be flexible, and Nick wouldn't have to be on duty just because he was on the premises, and there would be no problem with him taking time for his own writing. So why drive all the way to Cascade and back if he didn't have to? And to top it off, Griff even found himself offering a terrific salary. 

After Nick had gone, Griff stood at the chilled glass doors that led to the loft's balcony feeling slightly shocked. He thought back over the whole encounter, and couldn't latch onto a particular moment that pinpointed exactly when he had lost his mind. Or that explained why he had a stupid smile on his face. 

* * *

Blair had cheerfully volunteered to wash the dirty dishes from the farewell lunch they had eaten with Griff. And while Jim was drying them, he leaned against the counter with his chin in his hand, watching. 

"What's on your mind, Chief?" 

The word 'nothing' was spoken through barely parted lips, mouth not even opening. 

"Wanna tell me about the whole Nick thing, now?" 

"What 'Nick thing'? I was just trying to help out a friend. _Two_ friends. Nick needed a job, and Griff had a situation. I think it worked out pretty well. Plus, I thought you'd be glad that Griff wouldn't be up at the house alone." 

"That's all well and good," Jim said, giving Blair a pointed look out of the corner of his eye, "but are you sure there's nothing more _personal_ involved?" 

Blair frowned at him. "Like what?" 

"Like trying to put somebody on Griff's mind?" 

"You accusing me of matchmaking or something?" 

"Or something," Jim answered. "I think 'matchmaking' would have a somewhat nobler intent." 

"Hey, I was just doing a good deed." 

"I hope that's true, because Nick isn't Griff's type." 

"We'll see." 

Jim turned at that, looking sharply in Blair's direction, shaking his head when his unapologetic lover didn't even have the good grace to look embarrassed. With an exasperated sigh, he put away the last dish. 

"So, why don't you try telling me how come you keep staring at me?" Even with his back turned, he could practically feel Blair's eyes on him. He picked up a cloth, slowly wiping down surfaces that Blair had already declared clean. 

"I've missed you." 

It was _that_ tone, that low, huskiness that always made Jim's dick perk up. 

"What do you mean? I haven't been anywhere." 

"Well, we've had company for a whole week..." 

"Don't try to act like you haven't been getting any," Jim responded. That very morning, there had been a rushed, hushed event so intense that the memory alone had the power to stir Jim's blood. 

"I'm not complaining, but there's been no 'middle of the day'." Blair straightened up, moving to stand behind Jim, who was still haphazardly running a damp cloth on the counter. "No 'middle of the kitchen'." He scratched teasing trails lightly down Jim's back. "And I miss hearing you." 

Blair's voice had dropped even lower, a sexy whispering that was like a caress to Jim's hearing, sending a thrill down Jim's spine. 

"Hearing me?" Jim had to get satisfaction from the fact that at least he didn't sound as shaky as he was starting to feel. 

"Yeah, those sounds you make when we make love. I never told you how surprised I was that first time. Overall, you're a pretty contained guy, but, man, when you're feeling good...you make these primal noises, like an animal unleashed, and it makes my dick hard just thinking about it." 

"I don't know what you're talking about," Jim croaked, trying desperately to remember exactly how he _did_ sound in the throes of passion. 

"Yes, you do." 

Blair pressed closer, randomly picking spots to bite gently along Jim's back, right through the cotton of his shirt. 

"Chief..." Jim rasped out, and damned if it didn't almost sound like a growl to Jim's ears. 

"See?" Blair chuckled. Reaching around, he unbuttoned Jim's jeans, lowering the zipper. "I love that." 

He pushed the pants down, taking a pair of boxers with them, fingers brushing through the curly hairs at the base of Jim's cock, but ignoring the thick hard-on itself. Instead, he lowered himself, again biting Jim here and there, but concentrating on the bare skin of Jim's ass. 

"Chief..." Jim sounded even rougher than before. 

"Yes?" 

"Suck me." 

And Blair did, teasing the flesh of Jim's inner thighs, the backs of his knees with sharp sucking nips. 

Jim responded with a low, frustrated moan. 

"Jim..." 

Needy whimpers answered. 

"Just turn around, babe," Blair said, softly. 

With a deep breath, Jim executed a shuffling turn, his movements controlled by the pants hobbling his ankles. His dick was standing up, tall and stiff, the tip already wet. Blair grabbed him by the back of his legs, steadying him, and Jim looked down only to see Blair's wide, blue eyes looking back, and he watched as Blair slowly took him in, groaning loud and long as his aching need was eased by Blair's skillful tongue and willing mouth. He was thinking that he wanted it to last forever, but Blair sucked hard, and he slid in deeper. Blair's cheeks were hollowed out with the effort, and tight throat muscles worked on the head of Jim's dick. And, forget a leisurely time spent with Blair sucking him off, or even a hard, fast turn at fucking Blair's face, because Jim came immediately, and he could feel Blair swallowing and swallowing as he roared out his release. 

Blair rose, licking a trail upwards, reaching for Jim's face, and they kissed breathlessly, sharing Jim's taste between them. 

"That was what I missed," Blair said after finally letting Jim go. 

When Jim opened his eyes, Blair was standing there, somehow looking as wild and decadent as Jim felt, except hard, where Jim was spent and soft. Hard and huge. Outlined in tight, faded denim, Blair's dick reminded Jim of some erotic drawings that he had seen of over-endowed men bulging obscenely inside their pants. And, as drained as he was, he realized he was far from satisfied. He grabbed Blair, giving him another hungry kiss, while roughly groping him. 

Breaking away, Blair gasped, "oh fuck", getting a tight grip on Jim's hips, while Jim palmed and stroked and squeezed his engorged flesh. 

"My thought exactly," Jim breathed in Blair's ear. 

"Okay," Blair panted, grasping Jim's wrist to still his motions, "okay, let's go." 

Jim kicked the clothes from around his feet, and followed Blair into the living room where Blair positioned him over the end of the couch, spreading his legs apart. Knowing fingers fondled Jim's balls, and they drew up tight from the attention. One questing finger went skimming between the cheeks of Jim's ass, and pushed into the hole there, a dry and slightly painful penetration, and as the tip twisted just inside him, Jim relaxed to accommodate it, but, too soon, it withdrew. 

"Stay right there." The whisper floated down to him, and he managed to nod in response. 

Minutes later, his hips were lifted, and the textured softness of a towel was placed between him and the arm of the sofa. And then, the finger was back, lubed and sliding so easily all the way in. He gave a grunt of pleasure, ass automatically pushing back for more, and Blair obliged, fucking him slow and deep with one finger, then two, letting Jim set the pace. 

So sweet, so fine, but not nearly enough, and Jim managed to convey his desire for more, a challenge that Blair met satisfactorily when the slick, blunt head of a cock teased at his hole, just seconds before he was filled to the hilt. Blair settled in for a long, slow ride, calming Jim when he tried to rush, pinching his nipples to distract him and change his focus. 

Heat built up as the steady pace finally quickened, the thrusts still deep, but finally faster, and faster, causing Jim's renewed erection to rub tantalizingly over the towel beneath him, and the rough scrape of denim to scratch along his ass and the back of his legs from where Blair hadn't removed his jeans. Blair was talking to him, a stream of barely audible words of love and lust, and Jim was going to come again, and he pushed it, pushed back, concentrating on squeezing around the cock inside him, trying to ignore his own impending climax to get Blair over the edge before him, or at least at the same time. 

At last, Blair's sounds degenerated to a mumbling incoherence, and he shuddered, getting harder and larger inside Jim's ass before finally letting go, coming with a gasp and a curse and a whisper of Jim's name, collapsing over Jim's sweaty back. Growling out his relief, Jim followed, wetting the towel beneath him with his come. 

With a series of very slow movements, they separated to clean up and then dropped down onto the couch in a tangle of heavy, sated limbs. 

"I guess Griff left just in time," Jim said, playing contentedly with the curly strands of Blair's hair, "I don't think I would have survived if you spent another day missing something." 

"Don't worry, I'm not done with you yet. There's still the middle of the stairs in the middle of the night." 

"Then I think I'll need a nap," Jim responded, pulling the afghan from the back of the couch down on top of them both. 

"Wuss," Blair said, but Jim could tell that he was already half asleep. 

"Takes one to know one, Chief," Jim shot back quietly. And after placing a quick kiss on Blair's forehead, he closed his eyes and happily drifted off. 

* * *

After a month of working together, Griff continually caught himself staring as Nick worked on the computer, his hands moving over the keyboard, only to pause every so often to sweep back stray locks of hair. Nick's hair hung like black silk around his face, curling gently at the back of his neck, not enough length to tie back, but just long enough to be a constant distraction. Griff often wondered why Nick didn't just get it cut, even while his mind played with the idea of being able to use his own fingers to brush the hair out of the other man's eyes. 

With a guilty start, he made himself stop his scrutiny, turning instead to stare into the fire that was providing warmth to the room. Even in thick socks, jeans and a heavy sweater, Griff felt chilled. He wasn't used to being up at the lake during the colder months, and he knew that he was going to have to make some sort of decision soon. If winter weather came blasting in, he didn't want to be stuck up there, waiting for the snows to hit and the traveling to get difficult. That probably meant going back to Atlanta to work in a few months time, he thought, and he felt an odd pang at that, his eyes automatically going back to study Nick. 

Nick, who never seemed to feel the cold, despite having grown up in the humid heat of Houston. Who, when the 'official' workday was done, on those nights that he stayed over, would immediately take off his flannel shirt, along with his shoes and socks, to lounge around in his sleeveless undershirt, the ribbed white cotton tucked into the baggy khakis that he usually wore, leaving him bare-armed and barefoot. 

Griff glanced at the clock. In a couple of hours, he would get to see the slope of golden brown shoulders, the lean but muscled arms, the nicely arched feet. He wished that he had even a modicum of his sister's artistic talent, to convey the images that had invaded his mind, and capture Nick's masculine beauty on canvas. Instead, he did what he did best: he wrote. 

He had found himself filling page after page with graphically detailed passages describing Nick in the nude, Nick sweaty and aroused, Nick pleasuring himself. And it didn't take long before the accounts began featuring a mysteriously familiar lover with a large, muscular frame and copper skin, who enthusiastically embarked on all manner of sexual adventures with Nick on paper. Not that Griff didn't feel mortified about it, indulging in cheap thrills at the expense of someone that he thought of as a friend, but he couldn't stop. 

Right at that very moment, he was surreptitiously scribbling a narrative about a slow seduction where Nick was whispering words in Spanish that made his dick hard (in the story and out), a sensual saga that took the fictional Griff so high that he exploded under the pressure, falling helplessly in an orgasmic rush to find himself held in a gentle embrace, the name "Nico" on his lips... 

"Griffin." 

Slowly, Griff turned his head, heart beating painfully, to find Nick staring at him from across the room. "What?" 

"Talking to yourself?" Giving that easy smile, flashing even, white teeth. 

Clearing his throat noisily, Griff answered, "Just thinking...working on the next chapter." 

"Okay," Nick said, but he didn't go back to his work. 

"Why don't you get your hair cut?" Griff blurted out, desperately looking for a way to divert attention from himself. "You spend half your day trying to keep it out of your eyes." 

"Actually," Nick replied, "I cut it when I went back home, and now I'm trying to grow it out again. Get my ponytail back." With a shrug, he added, "Lost cause, huh?" 

Griff looked away, occupying his suddenly restless fingers by ripping the pages he had just written out of his notebook and stuffing them into a zippered leather portfolio that was at hand. Then, with a shrug of his own, he muttered, "No, it's fine. Just wondering." 

"Are you okay?" 

Griff looked up at the tone of genuine concern, chastising himself to get it together. "Yeah, just cold, you know. And hungry. Why don't you consider yourself finished for the day, and let's go eat some dinner," he said, getting up and heading for the kitchen. 

Nick stared after him for a few thoughtful moments, then shut down the computer, already toeing off his shoes. 

* * *

Jim walked around the empty space, admiring the view and the openness of the rooms. "It's fine, Griff," he said, eyeing his friend who was on the other side of the room, leaning against a bare, off-white wall. "But you didn't need me to tell you that." 

His shoulders moving in a gesture of nonchalance, Griff said, "Just wanted you to check it out." 

"Are you rethinking the idea of buying a place here in Cascade?" 

"No. Giselle will be coming out next month, and she'll probably be here for at least a year, and from the looks of things, I will be switching publishers, dealing with those guys in California, so it's not such a bad idea to relocate to this coast. Makes sense to buy something that I can live in comfortably year round. And I like it here." 

"And then there's Nick." 

Griff pushed away from the wall and began pacing. "What _about_ Nick?" 

"Your arrangement, him helping you out." 

"Oh...yeah." 

"Hold up. Griff?" Jim walked over, halting the other man's movements. "What's going on with you and Nick Alvarez?" 

"Not a thing, Jim." Griff put a bit more distance between them. 

"Well, shit," Jim said almost to himself, thinking that Blair had scored a hit after all, "you really like the guy." 

"I like him fine. We've become friends." 

"You know what I mean." 

"Hell, Ellison, you know he's not my type." Griff turned away, hoping to hide the effects of the sudden tightness around his heart and the rush of heat in his groin that belied his words. 

"That would have been my first guess, but I'm thinking now that I would have been wrong." 

"It's nothing. So what if I'm attracted to him? He works with me...that's it." 

Jim almost laughed, remembering when he told Griff almost the exact same thing about Blair. "So, you're not seeing anybody. What's the problem?" 

"He's just a kid." 

"Griff, come on, he can't be more than a couple of years younger than you." 

"Yeah, but he barely _looks_ over twenty-one." 

"That sounds like an excuse. What's really up?" 

"I think I'm still just screwed up in my head over that shit that happened in Dallas. Sort of like the fact that I sought you out behind it. Nick is so opposite of what I usually go for. He's not tall, he's not brawny, he's not older. I think I may be responding to a situation where I'll feel more in control." 

Jim laughed, thinking lovingly of his partner. "Who ever said that the short guy wouldn't be in control?" 

"I know it's stupid, but that's how fucked up I feel." 

"If this is about you naming that guy..." 

"No, I'm glad I did that. I don't know, I just..." 

"Griff, you did what you felt you could do. As for Nick, why don't you relax and see what happens." 

"No offense, Jim, but you're hardly the one to go around giving out relationship advice." 

"I'm not asking you to listen to me. But maybe you should ease up and listen to yourself." 

"You're full of shit, Jim," Griff said, chuckling softly as he went to get the keys that had been tossed onto the kitchen counter. 

"My claim to fame," Jim tossed back, laughing along with him. 

They left the condo, locking it up, going back down to meet the realtor. Before they drove away, Griffin Paris had agreed to become the owner of a three-bedroom condominium. 

* * *

Griff was in the middle of checking his email when the sound of the doorbell interrupted him. As he got up to answer it, he tried to figure out who it could be. Jim and Blair were deeply involved in some case, Nick had left over a half-hour earlier, he wasn't expecting any deliveries, and no one else in the area even had his new address yet. He opened the door and looked in confusion at the man on the other side, and was about to ask him if he had forgotten something, but then he was asked a question. 

"I...I was wondering if you wanted to go out to dinner." 

"Dinner? Are you hungry? You could have eaten before you left earlier. You know I don't mind." 

"No," Nick said, "I mean, going _out_ to dinner...with me. And I know this nice club. Not too wild. If you like dancing, that is. I know you like music, but I have no idea whether or not you like to dance." 

Griff stared back stupidly for a few seconds, totally caught off guard. Finally, he realized that they were still standing in the open doorway, and he pulled Nick inside the apartment, closing the door behind them. 

"You're asking _me_ out...on a _date_?" 

"If you're not interested, that's fine, we can still go out just as friends. I mean, I'd like to think that we're at least friends. But I had to ask. I've wanted to for a while now, and I've been sitting downstairs in my car for the last thirty minutes talking myself into it." At length, remembering to breathe, "So..." 

"Yes." 

"'Yes' as in we're going out, or 'yes' as in we're going _out_?" Whichever way is fine, but--" 

"Nico," Griff said, forestalling another round of the uncharacteristic rambling, not even fully aware that he had uttered a name that he only used in his dreams. Leaning down, he touched his lips to Nick's, meaning only to show his intent, but that first fleeting taste was too much and not nearly enough. So, he ventured forth with his tongue, groaning loudly when it was met, and they kissed for endless moments, not even touching each other at first, just standing close, prolonging their connection, ultimately unable to resist the urge to reach out, and they ended up in each other's arms. 

When the kiss at last ended, Griff said, " _Yes_. Okay?" 

His eyes shining, kiss-swollen lips breaking into a wide smile, Nick answered, "Yes." 

* * *

"No. She's too young," Simon said, not even looking up from his desk. 

"She's twenty-eight." Blair slipped a piece of paper on top of what Simon was reading. 

"And _I'm_ _forty_ -eight." 

"But you're holding up pretty well." 

"Gee, thanks." Simon exhaled loudly. "She's just a kid." 

"Hey, she's more mature than I am." 

" _That's_ not hard." 

"That's not _funny_ ," Blair said, glaring at Simon before going for a pleading look. "Look, you don't have to _marry_ her...just _meet_ her." 

"What would we talk about? She's not even in the same generation." 

"She's smart. And knowledgeable. She's... _worldly_ " 

"Yeah, she paints naked men." 

"So, she'll appreciate your body." 

Simon only harrumphed at that. 

"And, she's beautiful, man." 

There was a sound of grudging agreement, and Blair sensed the tide turning. 

"She likes jazz...and basketball..." 

'He's weakening,' Blair thought, 'definitely weakening.' 

"She deserves a great guy, and I happen to think you're a great guy." 

Simon snorted at him, and Blair decided that maybe that had been laying it on a bit too thick. 

"She's going to be around for at least a year, working on this project. What have you got to lose?" 

"Sandburg..." 

"Okay, Simon," Blair said, mentally bringing out his big guns. "Jim was talking about introducing her to Rafe, anyway. _You_ were my first choice, but I'll just take that number--" 

"Wait! Let's not be too hasty. Can't I think about it?" 

"Sure, Simon. But think about this: It's not how many years you've lived that'll make you old, it's not getting out and taking a chance." 

When the door closed after Blair left the office, Simon looked down at his desk, staring at the piece of paper that Blair had dropped there. 'Giselle Paris', followed by a long distance phone number. His fingers fidgeted with his coffee cup, his pen, and a few paper clips that were no longer doing their job...until finally he picked up the phone and dialed. 

* * *

Nick's hand played over the flat planes of Griff's stomach, rubbing random patterns on the smooth skin, occasionally dipping lower just to the point where his fingertips touched thick, springy hair. 

Griffin hummed contentedly, one of his hands running through the hair on his lover's head, idly massaging the scalp beneath. 

They were both relaxing in the aftermath of some satisfying sex and a refreshing shower, and Nick was enjoying the pleasant ache that still lingered from Griff making love to him. The memory of it caused him to slip his hand even lower under the sheet to play with Griff's cock, which was warm and heavy even in its current sated condition. It twitched lazily and there was another low hum, at which Nick laughed softly, biting gently in the vicinity of Griff's right nipple. 

Griff moaned quietly, trying to contain himself. He was sure that no one should be as happy as he felt. 'It's only because it's still so new between us,' he told himself, even as he quickly recognized it as a lie. They had only been lovers for six weeks, but he was sure that he had spent his entire adult life looking for the wrong thing. Because the 'right' thing was there with him in bed, curled close, breath tickling at his chest, stroking him lovingly between his legs. 'Real love', Griff acknowledged; though he hadn't yet said it out loud. 

"Nico..." 

"Hmm?" Nick smiled, already used to the name. Griff had even told him, in a halting, embarrassed voice, about the stories, and to set his lover at ease, Nick had promised they would act out every single one. 

"Are you sure that you want to drive all the way back to Houston? You could still fly, leave in a few days instead of a few hours. I don't mind getting you a ticket. You could just pay me back later if you wanted." 

"Thanks anyway, but I _want_ to drive. All of that time on the road, I could use it to think." 

"Think?" Griff asked in a strained voice that was a dead giveaway. 

Nick raised his head, his eyes smiling up at Griff. "Not about this, okay?" and he didn't continue until Griff had nodded. "I meant thinking about my writing, a chance to let the creative process flow uninterrupted, thinking out loud, going over things in my mind." He paused, considering Griff thoughtfully. "It's only a few weeks you know. You'll spend the holidays with your family, and I'll spend them with mine, and then I'll be back here with still two weeks before the new term starts for me." 

"I know." 

Resting his head back on Griff's chest, he added, "You'll hardly miss me." 

"Yeah, right," Griff said, already missing him, though he knew it was silly. 

"I've been thinking about something." 

"What's that?" 

"About your offer for me to move in here." 

Griff pulled Nick's head up so that he could look into that adored face. "And?" 

"And I still think it's too soon, but I'd like to do it. I just want to wait until after your sister gets to know me. She'll be living here for a while, and it might not work." 

"She'll love you." But not half as much as I do, Griff added silently. 

"We'll see," Nick said, dropping back down again. 

They fell silent, sharing occasional caresses and stray kisses. 

"I've been thinking, too," Griff finally said. 

"About what?" 

"I might put the current book on hold. I have something else that I want to write." 

For the third time, Nick's head came up. "Really? What?" 

"It has to do with something that happened to me a while back. Something that I want to work through." 

"Tell me." 

"I will. I promise, but not right now, okay?" 

Nodding, Nick moved up a little, initiating a kiss that immediately rekindled the fire within them, skin growing heated, cocks growing hard. As the passion escalated, Griff knew exactly what he wanted...what he _needed_ , really...something that up till then he hadn't allowed to happen naturally. 

He broke off the kiss, moving away. "Will you...?" he asked, turning over onto his stomach, settling down with his legs spread, raising his ass slightly to better present it, his suddenly _incredibly_ stiff dick stabbing at the mattress beneath him. 

Nick instantly replied, "Oh yes", already reaching for their stash of condoms and lube. He filled his hands with the magnificent flesh of Griff's rear end before lying out on top of him, his long, full cock burrowing itself between the firm cheeks. But Griff was shaking, and it made Nick stop in the middle of uncapping the tube in his hand. 

"Are you okay?" 

Griff nodded, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. "I just...love you," he finally forced himself to say. 

"Oh, querido." Nick dropped down beside him, planting kisses on his face, saying he loved him, too, first in English, then in Spanish. And he continually uttered sexy-sounding foreign phrases, alternating with words of reassurance in plain English, all while he prepared Griff with slippery fingers, then filled him with a slick, raging hard-on, and made love to him with deep, sweet strokes. He only stopped when his own body started shaking, caught in the throes of orgasm as Griff's ass gripped him fiercely, and then only so that he could shout out as he came, reaching around to grab Griff's erection, wanting to feel the swollen flesh as it released a stream of semen to run over his hand. 

By the time that they had taken another shower, it was almost time for Nick to go. He took Griff by the hand, looking him straight in the eye, wanting to eliminate the notion of words spoken simply in the heat of the moment. 

"Te amo, Griffin." 

With no hesitation whatsoever, Griff answered, "I love you, too, Nico." 

* * *

"Oh fuck," Blair gasped, collapsing on the bed, weak from aftershocks, and unable to hold himself up any longer. 

"Oof," he grunted seconds later when his other half collapsed on top of _him_ instead of considerately letting the bed take the fall. 

"You know," Blair said, his voice muffled where his face was pressed into the mattress, "that whole 'love to feel the solid, sexy weight of you on top of me' thing loses a lot of its appeal once the boinking stops." 

"I see your 'early morning attitude' program is still fully functional." 

"You'd be surprised how sweet I could be if you'd get _off_ me." 

Groaning, Jim rolled over, flopping down heavily onto his back. 

"Love you, Jim," Blair mumbled, blindly reaching out with one hand to pat Jim on his thigh. 

Jim grunted agreeably, and made a mental note to himself to keep a stash of towels on both sides of the bed, because somehow he hadn't ended up on his usual side, and he really didn't feel like moving and trying to maneuver around Blair to get them cleaned up. When Blair moved, turning over onto his back, and Jim felt him tugging on the sheet, he almost forced himself to intervene. But then he remembered that Blair had probably made a pretty good mess of the sheets already, so made no comment as Blair wiped up the worst of the stickiness on him, considering it good enough until he felt like going down to shower. 

"Hey Jim?" 

"Huh?" 

"I've got an idea." 

"Please, Sandburg, not now. I can't run away...I'm _naked_. I wouldn't get very far." 

"Very funny. Besides it won't cost you anything...well, not much." 

"I knew it. All right, let me have it." 

"Well, we'll be starting a new year soon, and I was thinking about having a party." 

"A New Year's party?" 

"Not really. I mean, I wasn't really focusing on New Year's. But I was thinking over what we talked about a couple of months ago. If you're not interested in us having a ceremony, I thought a 'coming out' party would be good. Just for our friends...and family, if you want." 

Jim refused to think about _his_ family. "I think our friends already know, Chief." 

"Yeah, but Simon was the only one that we officially told, and I...I like the idea of announcing to people what being your 'partner' really means to me. That I'm glad to have you in my life, that I'm proud to be by your side, lucky to be loved by you." 

"You..." Jim started, swallowing around the huge lump in his throat, barely able to contain the overwhelming rush of emotion that it seemed Blair _always_ made him feel, "you are the best thing that has ever happened to me." He drew Blair into a warm embrace. "Let's do it." 

"Cool. I have to check with Nick and Griff to see when they'll be back, so that they can come. Which reminds me...did you ever talk to Griff about the news report?" Blair asked. 

Two days earlier, a story had hit the press about a professional basketball player caught with an illegal substance that was commonly used as a so-called 'date rape' drug. By the evening news, two women had come forward with their stories about encounters with the athlete in question where they had had sex forced upon them. 

"No, not yet," Jim answered. "And Nick's leaving today, so I'm sure he's busy." 

"You never said, was the 'anonymous tip' part of the hypothetical situation that you went over with Simon?" 

"I mentioned going for the drug angle, and Simon talked to Jeffries from Narcotics, who passed the word along to the interested parties in Dallas. But it was all legit. They happened to be watching him when he slipped up." 

"And the women?" 

"A complete surprise, according to Simon. And they got calls from a couple of others, too, but they didn't want to go public." 

"So, Griff wasn't the first." 

"Apparently not." 

"But no calls from any men?" 

"Nope, and I bet there won't be any, but I'd also bet that Griff wasn't the only guy to get caught up there. It's even harder to get men to come forward, and when the assailant is someone they know...." 

"Well, I'm glad that they got that asshole." 

"Chief, you know that not much will probably come of it at this point." 

"Maybe not, but it's on people's minds now, his face on the news. Hopefully, red flags will go up where he's concerned from now on." 

"We'll see." 

"You think Griff will tell Nick about it?" 

"I don't know, and it's none of our business," Jim said, pinching Blair on the ass to emphasize his point. 

"You're going to give me a complex if you keep making comments implying that I'm a meddler." 

"Did you or did you not meddle with Griffin Paris and Nicolas Alvarez?" 

"But did it work?" 

"That's not--" 

"Did it _work_?" 

"You still--" 

"Did. It. Work?" 

"It wasn't--" 

"Just say, 'Yes, Chief'." 

Conceding defeat, Jim obediently repeated, "Yes, Chief." 

"Now try, 'I love you, Chief'." 

Gladly, Jim said, "I love you, Chief." 

"Not bad. Now say, 'Let's sell this drafty place, Chief, and move to sunny Florida." 

"Whatever you want, Chief...when we retire." 

Blair raised an eyebrow as if in thought, then grinned. "Deal. But I should probably tell you about Simon and Giselle..." 

The two of them got out of bed, talking and laughing and sharing a few kisses as they headed for the shower and the start of another day...together. 

THE END 


End file.
